


i want you (to lean on my shoulder)

by Anonymous



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Minor Jeon Jungkook/Park Jimin, No Plot/Plotless, just a bit of reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 12:28:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20639174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Jackson Wang was the only person Jaebum had ever wanted to mistake him for an alpha.





	i want you (to lean on my shoulder)

**Author's Note:**

> I watched 10 hours of BTS tweet/vine compilations and Got7 performing "Page" live on YouTube and couldn't stop thinking about it. All details are extremely handwaved. There is no plot. It's just Jaebum thinkin' about stuff and cuddling with Jackson.

Im Jaebum had always known he was an omega. It had been like knowing the sun would rise each morning or that his mother loved him. When his glands matured around age fourteen, the only thing that surprised him was how caught off guard other people were about it.

He knew that he didn’t look like a stereotypical omega. His shoulders were broad, he was taller than average, and his less pleasant personality traits weren’t stuffed down under miles of societal expectations of what it meant to be omega. But despite it all, he’d thought that people could just look at him and _see_.

Some could, to be fair. Jinyoung could; mostly because he’d been there, when Jaebum first flushed heat pink and started smelling like overripe fruit and dark loamy soil and the evidence had been so overwhelming it didn’t allow room for doubt or surprise. Mark could too, even though he never said much out loud. Jaebum knew it from the way he often seated himself quietly between Jaebum and Yugyeom, back when Yugyeom was still burgeoning and the surges of alpha instincts roiling in his not-yet-adult body were sparking and clashing with Jaebum’s already settled scent in a multitude of increasingly embarrassing and awkward instances.

Jackson Wang was the only person Jaebum had ever wanted to mistake him for an alpha. Jaebum would remember for all his life the moment Jackson first walked into the same room. There was something in the way he carried himself and the easy confidence in his shoulders that screamed alpha almost before he’d even crossed the threshold. And it was a problem. Because Jaebum was the leader of the group, and every cell in his body both demanded respect and wanted to shrink a little so he could press his forehead against Jackson’s bare, sturdy neck and close his eyes for a moment.

It would’ve been so much simpler to resolve that conflict if Jackson was even a little less perceptive than he was. He could’ve looked at Jaebum’s height and broadness and come to the same conclusion that the majority did, and they could’ve been easy friends on a level playing field. Jaebum would’ve eventually gotten over his initial throb of want. Of course, Jackson didn’t. And neither did Jaebum.

Jackson looked at him once, with polite acknowledgement, then flicked his eyes down to his throat and back up a little to his mouth and then met Jaebum’s gaze again. This time his eyes were wide and warm, and he smiled so brightly and happily that Jaebum couldn’t help but smile back, even though inside he was cursing a blue streak.

Years later, in the quiet comfort of their shared bed, with Jackson’s nose buried in the hair at Jaebum’s temple, Jackson mouthed at his ear gently and told him how he’d taken two looks at him and fallen in love. And it wasn’t that Jaebum didn’t believe him, but it seemed like a very rosy take on what had followed those two looks.

Arguments, mostly. Jaebum bristling at the immediately intimate, friendly manner Jackson used with him. Jackson not understanding why an omega a month older than he was would insist on formalities. Sprinkled in were general misunderstanding due to language barriers and other members picking sides; Yugyeom clashing with Jackson on confused instinct alone, when Jaebum’s scent turned sour due to arguing with Jackson, Bambam and Jaebum hissing at each other, because Bambam was a more traditionally raised omega and thought Jaebum was being too cold to Jackson. Jinyoung would back up Jaebum and then Mark would tell him to lay off of Bambam. The first month of the group’s existence was also almost the last.

Only when Jaebum finally snapped altogether, took Jackson by the front of his shirt in the practice room in front of everyone else, and demanded to know why he refused to respect him just because he was an omega, did the tension break. Just like Jaebum would always remember meeting him for the first time, he would also remember how Jackson went pale as a sheet in that practice room, face lax in shock.

“I think the world of you,” Jackson had said into the heavy silence that rang across the parquet floor, eyes guileless and hurt and more doe-like than any omega’s, “I thought we were friends.”

After that, things began to unravel and smooth themselves into more sustainable ways of cohabitation. Jaebum and Jackson went out together, for coffee and talking, and talked and talked until the coffee shop closed and they shivered their way back to the dorms. They took their skateboards out in the middle of the night and screamed their way down the Han embankment. Jackson bought Jaebum books and Jaebum taught him all the most important rude phrases in Korean.

By the time they debuted, Jackson and Jaebum had fallen into a rhythm that was comfortable and safe, while also feeling like it was inevitably leading towards _something_. Time seemed, to Jaebum, to have split itself into two: before and after Jackson. Before, he would notice alphas. The way their scents mixed with his, or the way some would eye him like a puzzle to be solved and conquered. After, he no longer paid any mind. He didn’t notice new smells or think about whether it would be nice to allow whatever alpha had clocked him to buy him a snack or sit next to him or touch his shoulder.

Jackson bought him his snacks. Jackson sat next to him and did more than just touch his shoulder. He would drape his whole arm around Jaebum’s neck, stretching a little to do so if they were standing. Jackson held his hand through airports, and they herded each other through crowds in turns. Jaebum would sometimes wake on the living room sofa to Jackson covering him with a duvet, when he’d fallen asleep again trying to make sense of their upcoming schedule. Jaebum would seek him out in public and draw him in, because he wanted to be close and to calm himself on Jackson’s scent that had become so intertwined with his that it felt wrong to not have it lingering.

The level of comfort they’d managed to find in each other, and their unusual gender dynamic did not fully hit home, until Got7 met Bangtan on the backstage of a music show. Jaebum knew of Bangtan, of course. He knew some of the members individually, mostly through Yugyeom, had seen multiple performances, heard the crescendo buzz around them. But he was busy, and they were the product of another company, and so it was only on that one dreary October evening, when he finally got to observe them as a unit.

He was tired that night. Sleep had been hard to come by in the relentless preparation for a comeback, stress had stolen half of what little opportunity had been granted them by their schedules. But their performance that evening had been solid, and after monitoring it with his members, he allowed himself to slump in the corner of a comfortable brown leather sofa.

Jackson had wandered off after the playback, apparently to scavenge for food, as he approached Jaebum with a canned drink and a packet of shrimp snacks. His eyes were warm and happy, and he had the slight swagger of an alpha, who knew he was providing for an omega.

“Thanks,” Jaebum murmured, sleep threatening to slip over his eyes. It took more effort than it should have from him to pop open the tab and take a drink. Jackson only hummed in response, and pushed him a little, as he arranged himself flush against Jaebum’s right side, so that Jaebum was snugly caught between the arm of the couch and the pleased alpha, who wriggled against him in an effort to get comfortable. Jackson picked up the bag of chips from Jaebum’s lap and tore it open, offering it to him.

“You haven’t eaten today,” Jackson pointed out with an exaggerated pout, making a show of examining Jaebum’s face up close, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“Was busy,” answered Jaebum defensively, but took the bag.

With drink in one hand and snacks in other, it left him vulnerable to attack. Jackson face-planted against his neck like a very wiggly, happy vampire and Jaebum rather thought that the gulping breath he took directly over Jaebum’s scent gland rang across the room.

For a moment, it was nice and peaceful. The bustle of a music show seemed to fade in the background, as Jaebum steadily worked through his peachy drink and the bag of snacks, while Jackson stayed quiet and relaxed, his breath tickling over Jaebum’s skin and his weight a pleasant anchor against the length of his right side.

Bangtan crashed into the room like a seven-headed tornado, screaming and tumbling over each other. Jaebum knew that noise, knew that high of energy after a successful show. Both flinched at the noise, before Jackson’s hand came up to pat him on the sternum twice, before settling there, fingers loosely curled into his shirt. Jaebum continued with his snacks, but followed the other band’s movement, as they took their turn to sit on the sofa being filmed and talked their way through the performance. They looked like a well-fused group, complimenting each other warmly and liberally, slapping shoulders and nudging sides like brothers. All of them had that steely eyed concentration that Jackson liked to tease Jaebum about, when they analysed their work.

“Wanna go say hi to your best friend Rap Monster?” Jaebum murmured coyly, as Bangtan finished their on-camera obligations and spread out to socialise. Jackson, who’d spent the last few months praising Bangtan’s leader to the heavens, just laughed and nuzzled a little closer.

“He knows we’re bros for life. I’m comfy here.”

“I’m honoured.”

Bangtan’s maknae caught Jaebum’s wandering attention from all the way across the room. It was no wonder Jeon Jungkook was friends with their Yugyeom; they both had the same still-not-finished-growing gangliness to their physique, the same baby-alpha posture and energy that at the same time demanded and wanted attention but didn’t quite know what to do with it. Case in point, Jeon Jungkook was currently doing push ups against the wall like an awkward lunatic.

It was times like that, when Jaebum thanked every deity he could think of that he’d only met Jackson after the alphaness of him had settled into his blood and bones. Their start together had been challenging enough as it was. If Jackson had still been at the stage, where he needed everyone to know he was strong and capable and worthy of attention at all times, they probably would’ve killed each other.

Jaebum watched Jungkook idly. He looked so young that a part of Jaebum wanted to get up, go over, and make him lie down under a blanket for a moment, while he called his mother. His face was, even in profile, still round with baby fat and his eyes were huge and constantly awed. But his hands were big, and his limbs long and the muscles in his back moved with a strength that suggested that Jeon Jungkook would cause _trouble_ in a few years, when his jawline had a chance to sharpen and all that alpha settled over his shoulders a little better.

“He’s a _baby_,” Jackson laughed quietly into his neck, having caught on to his line of attention. His fingers tightened a little on Jaebum’s shirt, and Jaebum covered them briefly with his own.

“I know that, I’m not _looking_,” Jaebum scolded, scandalised. He really was just a baby, “But that kid is going to be a problem in a few years,” he continued with an amused murmur, “They’re gonna have to hire people just to drag all the omegas off him.”

“I don’t know,” Jackson hummed, head drawing away from Jaebum a little to glance at their right, “I think he’s gonna be locked down before that,” he murmured so low Jaebum barely heard him.

“Really? Who?” Jaebum whispered, trying his best not to obviously goggle at whoever Jackson was referring to or seem like the world's biggest gossip.

“Park Jimin,” Jackson answered, laying his head back down with a pleased sigh.

“Oh. _Oh_. Of course.” It really should have been obvious, Jaebum thought.

If he was the anti-stereotype of an omega, then Park Jimin was the golden standard. He was slight in stature, with soft cheeks, sleepily coy eyes, and a plush mouth, like he was constantly in a state of waking up from a lovely nap and begging to be kissed. He felt rather sorry for Jungkook, then. It couldn’t have been easy trying to grow into your own bloodright with the pressure of fame and attention, all the while trying to develop something lasting with another person in that dizzying bloom of youth and hormones.

As if knowing that he was being thought of, Park Jimin drifted into Jaebum’s field of vision, slinking his way across the room to where Jungkook was still doing push ups like he didn’t know what else to do with himself. Jaebum watched, how Jimin leaned against the wall next to the baby alpha and reached out to poke him gently on the side. Jungkook nearly crashed against the wall and turned at once towards him, like two magnets snapping together. Now his back was to Jaebum, obscuring them both from his view, but Jaebum knew that forcedly casual way he held himself and he saw how Jungkook’s arm came up to touch something on Jimin’s face or neck. They looked like something off a movie poster, or the pages of a novel you’d hide under your pillow. Like they were a careless word and a thoughtless moment away from a public scandal.

“Yugyeom says they’re unbearable to hang with,” Jackson told him, eyeing them with curiosity, “I see what he means.”

“Just wait until Yugyeom gets a girlfriend. He’s going to be twice as bad and half as cute about it,” he scoffed, tipping the last crumbs from the bag into his mouth. Jackson cackled.

Jaebum scrunched the now empty bag into a ball and threw it to the other end of the sofa, before hoisting himself into a better, less spine-wrecking slouch. He curled his arm around Jackson and drew him more solidly against his chest. His dark hair was a little sweaty where it tickled Jaebum’s jaw and he smelled like late evenings in the van being driven around from venue to venue, like a performance ending on the perfect note, like early mornings spent huddled in fluffy coats at a shoot.

_I think I love you_, Jaebum thought quietly and then considered saying it out loud, because the thought made him happy. But the room was so full of people and noise and an overpowering smell of hairspray that it felt like an inappropriately public place to let out such tender sentiments. Jaebum could wait. After all, they had so much time.


End file.
